Censorship
by TonksIsMyHero
Summary: A disturbing incident at an art school opens a Pandora's box of horrifying images. The detectives work tirelessly to find if these sketches are more than just ink and paper.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I highly suggest you do not read this until you have read "Beast" due to spoilers relating to the charater of Caroline Schmidt. This takes place four months after "Beast". This story is based on true events and all addresses excepting those that are completely accurate are purely from my imagination.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything from or related to "Law and Order: SVU" or any of the "Law and Order" series. I own the characters of Detective Caroline Schmidt and Catherine Schmidt, as well as any minor characters that have not previously appeared on the television series.

**CHAPTER ONE**

_In the criminal justice system, sexually-based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories._

**DOINK-DOINK**

The pretty young woman pulled a robe over her slender body and tied it tightly, grinning at the art students who were completing their sketches. They had been drawing her, and she had been posing nude for them.

"Catherine, if you'd like to take a look, I'm sure no one will object," said the teacher, gesturing to his students.

Catherine shook her chin-length, wavy brown hair out of her face and nodded, then proceeded to walk around the classroom, peering over the shoulders of the hardworking students. She could see that they were all in various stages of mastery of sketching: some were obviously very talented, while others, despite their efforts, left something to be desired. A particularly flattering sketch that depicted her as a mermaid basking on a rock made her smile warmly at the woman who had drawn it.

"These are really great," said Catherine, almost telling the truth.

She reached the very last student, a man in his mid-twenties who had a quiet, almost nerdy sort of way about him. When she approached, he shut his notebook quickly.

"Aw, can't I look?" she said playfully.

"It's not very good," said the man defensively.

"Oh, come on, I'll decide that," said Catherine, and she opened his book before he could protest.

What she saw turned her stomach, but she smiled all the same.

"Wow," she said softly. "This is really intense. Hey, do you think I could make a copy? It's so original."

The young man looked taken aback, but nodded all the same. Catherine hitched her robe a little tighter around herself and scurried to the teacher's office to make a copy and to make a phone call to the only person she could think of while her heart pounded.

**DOINK-DOINK**

Detective Olivia Benson sat at her desk, toying with a pen while she thought of how to connect the dots as eloquently as possible in a DD-5 she was working on. Her partner, Detective Elliot Stabler, finished his and leaned back in his chair.

"I envy you," said another detective, a young woman known as Caroline Schmidt. "I can never finish my paperwork that quickly."

"That's what comes from having an English major for a daughter," he responded with a grin.

"Well, I guess since I'll be riding a desk until who knows when, I'll get faster. We'll have to have a DD-500 race or something."

Elliot laughed, but silently wished Caroline wouldn't make jokes like that. It was hard to laugh about something so grim. Detective Schmidt would indeed be on desk duty for a long time, due to having a relatively serious case of cervical cancer. She had been on chemotherapy for a while now and had already lost most of her hair, a lot of weight, and had become too weak to work in the field. He watched her thoughtfully as she adjusted the stocking cap that covered her head and remembered vaguely the days when she always wore a braid or pigtails. He wondered how much she missed having long hair – or hair at all, for that matter.

A moment later, Caroline's phone rang and she answered right away.

"Detective Caroline Schmidt, Manhattan Special Victims Unit," she said professionally.

Her eyes went rather wide and she immediately began to try to calm whoever was on the other line. As she did so, she summoned Detectives John Munch and Fin Tutuola with a sequence of snaps and hand gestures.

"Okay. Okay…take a deep breath and tell me what happened…you have a copy? Good. Don't worry, I'm sending someone right away…oh, really? Okay. I'll let them know. Go there and stay there, but give him back the original…yeah, good idea. Don't let him know. Call me if you need me."

Caroline hung up and began writing an address on a slip of paper for Munch and Fin.

"That was Catherine," she said breathlessly. "My sister. She was at the Art & Soul school where she was modeling for the sketching class…you know, nude. She said she was sexually assaulted and she needs someone right away."

"Someone assaulted her in the middle of an art class? What exactly happened?" asked Munch.

"I don't know, I didn't ask because I could tell she didn't want to say over the phone. She's going to be outside the bodega on the corner of East 57th Street," said Caroline, handing over the paper. "I'll let Cragen know where you've gone. Please, please get there right away."

"Don't even worry. We're on it," said Fin.

Munch and Fin left the precinct and Caroline turned to Elliot and Olivia, shaking her head in disbelief.

"This is beyond bizarre," she said. "I never thought 'one of our own' would ever apply to me."

**DOINK-DOINK**

"Catherine?"

Catherine turned when she heard Fin call her name and rushed toward the detectives. Her hooded sweatshirt was zipped all the way to her throat, her eyeliner slightly smudged from what Fin assumed were tears.

"Thank God!" said Catherine.

"Are you all right?" asked Munch.

"I – I guess so. Yeah. Yeah, sure."

"Okay. Let's get you to a hospital and then I'll take your statement."

"I don't need to go to a hospital," said Catherine.

"I know you don't want to," said Munch as reassuringly as he could. "But it will help us gather trace evidence –"

"I have all the evidence you need right here," said Catherine, and she pulled a piece of paper out of her backpack.

Fin took the paper and unfolded it, then stared at the image. Without a word, he handed it to his partner and took out his notebook, ready to take Catherine's statement right then and there.

"Can you tell me what happened?" he asked quietly.

"This is a part-time gig for me. A couple of art schools ask me to come in and pose nude for them. I know it's only one step up from stripperhood, but it's good money and…anyway. Today I was at Art & Soul, and it was totally normal. Like, I stand there, I pose all naked, they draw me, the usual. Then the teacher asks if I want to go around and look at the drawings."

Fin noticed that Munch had been staring, obviously offended, at the sketch, and he nudged him to get him to stop and pay attention to what Catherine was saying.

"Well, I did, and they were normal, too. It's typical for some of the students to take liberties with the picture…you know, like insert their own creativity into them. One lady drew me as a mermaid, and another guy had me as Venus, stuff like that. Anyway, I get to this one guy and he tries to hide the picture from me, like I'm not going to snatch it and look anyway, because I thought he was just being modest. When I saw it, I just pretended to be all interested and impressed at the intensity of it, so I asked if I could make a copy. So I took it to the teacher's office, made a copy, and called Caroline."

Fin jotted down this last bit of information in the best shorthand he could manage and took the picture back from Munch.

"Do you have any idea why he drew you like this?" asked Fin.

"Isn't it obvious?" said Catherine. "It's his weirdo fantasy or something. I'm just glad I caught it so you guys can arrest him before he gets to do it."

For the picture showed Catherine, completely nude, standing helpless in front of a masked man whose arms were wrapped around her from behind. One hand grasped the Catherine in the drawing's genitals while the other held a gun to her head. It was a disgusting and offensive image, but Munch voiced the problem before Fin could.

"I understand this upsets you, but we can't arrest him just for drawing it," said Munch. "It's art."

"What the hell kind of art is that? That's the kind of thing that people draw when they're like…gearing up or something. It's obvious he wants to rape me!" said Catherine, her voice pitch rising until she sounded exactly like her sister. "Who knows how many others of these little sketches he has stashed around or how many he's carried out?"

"Look, I'm sorry, but I don't see how we can pursue this. There's no evidence that would suggest he's raped anyone, is there?" said Munch.

Catherine sighed and pushed her hair behind her ears. Fin put his notebook away and put the copy of the drawing into his pocket.

"Listen," he said. "I promise you that if anything comes up that leads to this guy, this drawing will come up in court. But there's nothing we can do if it's just a picture."

"So basically the freak draws however many nasty pictures like this he wants and gets off scot-free?"

"I don't like it either," said Munch. "But like Fin said, there's nothing we can do if he's not carrying out what he's drawing."

"Look, can't you just check on his priors or something? See if he's ever been arrested before and if he has, you could check him out and see if he goes anywhere with this," said Catherine, choosing her words in such a way that she sounded almost scarily similar to Caroline.

"What's his name?" asked Fin, pulling the notebook back out if for no other reason than to please Catherine.

"I think it's Lewis Moore."

"We'll see what we can do. Until then, can we give you a ride home?"

Catherine sighed again and lit a cigarette. "Sure."

As they walked to the car, Munch watched her smoking.

"I didn't know you smoked," he commented.

"I haven't since I was seventeen, and even then I barely did. I'm just so freaked out right now, I need to mellow out a little bit."

"I can imagine."

Before she'd even smoked the cigarette to the halfway point, she threw it onto the ground and stubbed it out, climbing into the car and leaning back against the seat, clearly distressed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Do you really think if I owned this, I'd be sitting around writing fanfiction?

**CHAPTER TWO**

**DOINK-DOINK**

Caroline returned home that night to a dark apartment and the smell of smoke. Coughing, she made her way into the bedroom, seeing Catherine sitting on the bed Caroline had provided for her, watching television and smoking a cigarette.

"When did you start _smoking_?" asked Caroline in shock.

"Sorry," said Catherine, putting it out. "I'm not addicted or anything. I've smoked maybe twice in three years. I'm just stressed right now. I'm supposed to go back to Art & Soul tomorrow."

"Yeah…I saw the picture."

Catherine muted the television. "Are you serious? They actually showed that to you?"

"Yeah, and I have to say, it scared me."

"Scared me, too."

"We checked out Lewis Moore," said Caroline. "He had a few parking violations, but nothing else. So he's not a sex offender."

"Or he just hasn't been reported. I know how a lot of it works. Isn't it something like sixty percent of all rapes go unreported?" Catherine reasoned. "You saw the drawing. You saw what he…thinks about. How is it possible that he wouldn't be turned on by that, sick as it is?"

"I wish I could prove it, but unless he has actually physically assaulted someone, there's nothing I can do about it."

Catherine groaned and put the sound back on the TV. Caroline went over to her own bed and flopped down on it, pulling off her hat and some more hair as she did so. Catherine watched her.

"Do you miss it?" she asked softly.

"Miss what?" asked Caroline.

"The field."

Caroline sighed. "Yeah, I do, but the way I see it, when I come back, I'll be a better detective than ever because I'll want it so badly. I'll have waited so long that it'll be just long enough to make me really fiery and ready to go. And if I have it my way, I'll be the lead detective on my first case back. At least, that's what I'll propose to Cragen."

Catherine grinned at her older sister. "You'll get it. You've done a great job here. Everyone really likes you from what they've told me."

"By the way, John says to let you know that there's a special on Wednesday night about JFK," said Caroline as she kicked off her shoes.

"Fantastic," said Catherine. "Oh, and do you remember that girl I was telling you about?"

"What was her name? Amy?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I remember. What about her?"

"We're going out on Friday night. Well, we will be if I'm not being raped in any more pictures, because if that happens, there's no way I'm going anywhere," said Catherine.

Caroline had no idea what to say. Catherine was always fearless, and to hear her say she'd pass up a Friday night date – something that she had never passed up in all twenty years of her life – really disturbed her. As Caroline drifted to sleep to the soft rumbling of the newscaster's voice, she allowed herself to send a quick thought into the universe: _please don't let anything happen to my sister._

**DOINK-DOINK**

"How's Catherine?" asked Olivia as Caroline entered the squadroom the next day.

"She's okay. She said she's ready to call me in case anything else happens. Today they're supposed to be finishing the sketches, so you can just imagine what this guy has in mind if he wasn't finished with it yesterday," said Caroline in a sickened tone.

"I'd rather not imagine it, thanks," said Elliot. "How are you feeling today?"

"Cold," said Caroline, indicating the multiple layers she wore.

The lack of body fat caused her to shiver constantly and it had become necessary to wear bulky clothing. However, despite her somewhat weakened physical state, she still remained as fiery as ever in her attitude.

"Schmidt, I heard about your sister, but the details were fuzzy. Is she all right?"

Captain Donald Cragen had just joined the conversation, his fatherly manner now in full bloom.

"She's fine," said Caroline. "She was at Art & Soul in the West Village…"

And Caroline told Cragen the whole story, then finished by showing him the drawing of Catherine. He looked sickened by the photocopy and folded it sharply in half before handing it back.

"And you? You're okay? You look a little pale today."

"So what else is new? I'm fine, Cap, really. And if I need time off," said Caroline before Cragen could say it. "I'll let you know."

"You'd better," said Cragen.

**DOINK-DOINK**

Fin knocked on the door of the Schmidt apartment.

"Catherine? You called me, is everything okay?" he called, listening for a response. When he received none, he tried again. "Catherine, it's Fin. You can let me in, it's okay. I'm holding my badge up to the peephole."

Fin heard the lock click and the door opened slowly. Catherine stood there in sweatpants with her face swollen from crying. He had never seen her in such a state. Usually she was the picture of her sister: resilient, fiery, sarcastic, and a little loud. Now, however, she looked like a scared little girl.

"C'mon in," she mumbled, and stepped aside for Fin to enter. "Where's John?"

"He had something in court. What happened? Can you talk to me?"

"Yeah, sure, have a seat."

Fin sat on the chair opposite Catherine, who curled up on the couch and toyed with her somewhat lank hair as she spoke.

"I told myself I wouldn't call unless something really bad happened. I thought maybe today I would do the posing, do the rounds, look at the pictures, and cut out before I talked to anyone, but while I was changing in the teacher's office, my phone rang, and I was talking with this girl Amy for a while. We're supposed to have a date on Friday, but now…I just don't know if I want to go anywhere."

"Did someone hurt you, Catherine?" asked Fin gently.

Catherine nodded. "I thought it was okay, you know? That Lewis guy came in the office after I hung up and I thought everything would be okay. He started walking up to me and I told him to back off because my sister's an SVU detective. I thought that would scare him off, but he…"

Fin stopped writing and looked up. Catherine's eyes had filled with tears again and she smeared them away fiercely. Fin didn't want to, but he knew he had to ask.

"Did he rape you?"

Catherine shook her head this time. "No, it wasn't like that. But he scared me so much. He threw his sketchbook at me and yelled at me to evaluate his work. He said it was obvious that I knew everything there was to know about art, all sarcastic-like, you know? Then when I asked where this was all coming from, he yelled at me to just ask the cops, and he pushed me really hard against the desk and stormed away."

Catherine took a pause and reached for a throw blanket. Arranging it on her lap, she continued slowly.

"I couldn't move for a minute, but then I picked up the sketchbook, and oh, my God, Fin, you can't even begin to imagine what was in there. It was sick. I've got it with me, I want you to see it so I don't have to talk about it. It's disgusting."

She reached over the arm of the sofa and picked up her backpack, then pulled out a sketchbook and handed it to Fin. Fin flipped it open and turned the pages. Image after image of women being terrorized flashed before his eyes: a nude on a bed with a knife in her stomach, a woman being held down by one man and raped by another, and three pictures that obviously were Catherine in various threatening poses. Fin snapped the book shut and jotted down some notes.

"I didn't want to call Caroline. I know she'd freak out, and she's not doing so well right now," said Catherine, and Fin heard a new kind of fear enter her voice. "I'm sure you've noticed."

"Yeah, a little bit," said Fin. "What exactly's going on?"

"It's just a matter of her not being able to keep much food down. She's getting these little dizzy spells sometimes, and she won't admit that she hurts all over. And she won't give up on her exercise. She's still running every day. I think she's losing it," said Catherine, now pulling threads from the blanket.

Fin didn't know what to say to that, so instead he resorted to a slightly more businesslike tone.

"Tell you what. Why don't you come on down to the precinct. I can take a more formal statement, and then Caroline can take you home. Sound good?"

Catherine nodded. "Okay."

**DOINK-DOINK**

Caroline returned from the deli with a bag full of sandwiches for her colleagues. As she handed Olivia a chicken sub and reached for Fin's order, she realized he wasn't there.

"Where's Fin?" she asked.

"He's in there, taking a statement," said Olivia, pointing at the interview room.

"Oh. Who is it this time?"

Olivia hesitated, but Elliot answered for her.

"It's Catherine. Fin just brought her in a few minutes ago," he said, taking the sandwich Caroline held out for him.

"What?" said Caroline, her eyes widening on her gaunt face. "I have to see her."

As she rushed towards the interview room, Elliot stood up and blocked her way.

"Caroline, you know as well as I do that whatever happened, Catherine needs to give her statement, and then you can see her," he said calmly. "Why don't you just sit down and eat your lunch?"

"Are you kidding me?" said Caroline, and it was clear from the tone of her voice that she would lose her temper soon.

"Come on," said Elliot, and he attempted to steer her back to her desk, being mindful of her fraility.

Caroline jerked out of his grip, ducked around him, and set off once more for the interview room. This time, Cragen served as a human wall.

"Schmidt!" he called. "My office. Now."

Caroline looked as though she wanted to throw something, but resisted the urge and instead went into Cragen's office. He closed the door behind them.

"You need to take a break," he said firmly.

"I'm fine," said Caroline.

"No, you're not, and how do you think your sister will be able to handle whatever happened today if you're in the hospital?"

"Stop it, Captain! I can do my job. Let me do it!" shouted Caroline. "That's my baby sister in there, there's no way I'm leaving her alone like this!"

"That's enough!" Cragen shouted back.

"No, it's not enough! I don't think you quite understand what it's like to want to help more than anything but not be allowed to, and thanks to you, that's what I feel twenty-four hours a day! This is in my own household now. Let me work it!"

"Caroline, if I have to, I will force –"

"You need me. You can't send me away because you won't have enough bodies!" said Caroline accusingly, and she turned her back on Cragen.

"Don't you turn your back on me, Detective. I am trying to work in your best interest."

Caroline did not respond, so Cragen kept going.

"I do not appreciate your insinuation that I'm trying to punish you in any way. You know that if I had my way, you'd be out in the field to your heart's content because I know what a great detective you are. But I will not risk you right now, do you understand?"

When Caroline didn't turn around, Cragen began to worry. He approached her slowly.

"Caroline?"

Caroline faced Cragen once more, took two steps towards him, and then stumbled. She caught the back of a chair at the same time as Cragen caught her arm. He felt how very thin she had become – her upper arm felt like clinging to a wrist – and that she was shaking all over. Enough was enough, but before he could say the word, Caroline spoke up.

"I think," she said in a labored sort of way. "I need some time off, Captain."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **SVU does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. Boo.

**CHAPTER THREE**

**DOINK-DOINK**

"You Lewis Moore?"

The somewhat scrawny, nerdy-looking young man turned to face whoever had hailed him. When he saw Elliot holding out his badge, he looked nervous.

"Yeah," said Moore. "What do you want?"

"We just wanted to ask you a couple of questions. Why don't you come with us?" said Olivia.

**DOINK-DOINK**

"I told you already, I never touched Catherine Schmidt! She's making it up because she didn't like the way I drew her."

Moore wasn't giving an inch in his story, and Elliot felt his patience being strained.

"Well, to tell you the truth, it was pretty…graphic," said Elliot, slapping the sketchbook down on the table and flipping through the dozens of sketches of women being tortured.

"I know that being in the job you are, it must seem inappropriate, but I have to draw what I feel," said Moore in an annoyingly artsy manner.

"So you feel women should be objects to maim?" said Olivia.

"Not at all, Detective. These pictures scared you, right? They disturbed you. That's the whole point. These are _supposed _to offend, to show how horrible the crimes really are."

Olivia turned to a particularly upsetting sketch and pointed to the girl portrayed in it.

"How old is she supposed to be?" she asked. "She looks like a kid."

"She is," said Moore. "That's called _Little Miss Laura_, like that doll. My neice has one."

Something stirred in Elliot, and Olivia noticed his fidget. She caught his eye and they communicated silently that they both needed to leave the room.

"Would you excuse us for a minute?" said Elliot, and Olivia gathered the sketchbook and followed him out the door.

"What's going on?" asked Olivia as soon as they were out of earshot of anyone else.

"Hand me that picture," said Elliot.

Olivia leafed through the book until she arrived at _Little Miss Laura_. Elliot stared at it, brought it closer to his face, and furrowed his brow.

"What?" prompted Olivia.

"Laura Jenkins," said Elliot. "Look at her. That's got to be Laura Jenkins."

"The girl from the Upper West Side? That was a huge case, what with her father running for Senator and all," said Olivia. "Are you sure?"

"Look at her," repeated Elliot.

Olivia looked, and she could certainly see a resemblance…more than a resemblance. The picture showed the young teenager being pinned down by a shirtless man, and they could see a tattoo on the sketched man's shoulder.

"Talk about artistic license," said Olivia.

"Might not be. We never did find the guy. For all we know, Moore knows him and got the idea from there."

"That's kind of far-fetched, don't you think? Anyone could have read her story in the newspaper and gotten the idea from there."

"Maybe," said Elliot thoughtfully. "Still, I'd like to see why he chose this particular take on it."

**DOINK-DOINK**

Catherine Schmidt came bounding over to Cragen in the hospital waiting room.

"I got your message. What happened?" she said, peeling off her jacket.

"Caroline's okay. She got a little woozy at the office and we both thought it would be best if she got checked out. They're looking at her right now," said Cragen. "Have a seat, I'll stay with you."

"Thanks," said Catherine gratefully, and she flopped into the nearest chair.

"How are you holding up?" asked Cragen.

"I've been better. It was so weird…I came out of the interview room and Elliot said you'd gone to the hospital with Caroline. I thought…I don't know what I thought. I freaked out because I knew I couldn't handle anything happening to her, especially with…"

Catherine trailed off and toyed with a string on her jeans.

"It's Passover soon. I think she said we're inviting everyone for our seder, if you're interested," said Catherine. "I'll probably burn everything we're cooking, but most of it's supposed to be bitter anyway."

Cragen managed a hint of a smile when Caroline came walking toward them, accompanied by a nurse.

"Carrie!" said Catherine, immediately going to her and giving her a tight hug. "You scared the hell out of me. Don't ever do that again!"

"I'll do my best," said Caroline weakly.

"I already told your captain about the seder, so I hope we were inviting him," said Catherine, still hugging Caroline.

Caroline let out a loud laugh and the nurse smiled and walked away. Catherine finally let go of her sister and Cragen approached, shaking Caroline's hand.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm doing fine. The doctor said I just need to take a day or two off and rest, but then I'll be ready for work again, no problem," said Caroline.

"Go home," said Cragen firmly. "Go home now. Take a break, for God's sake."

"I will, I promise. I'll be back on Monday."

Catherine looked as though she wanted to say something, but held her tongue. Instead, she contented herself with steering her older sister out the door and to her waiting car.

**DOINK-DOINK**

"According to the ME's report, Laura Jenkins was beaten, raped, and strangled with a scarf. When they found her, she had already been dead for a day," said Olivia, reading from the file.

"Yeah, but look at this here," said Elliot, showing Olivia a crime scene photo, a closeup of Laura's forearm. "The bruising pattern."

"Looks like she was held down by her forearms," said Olivia, examining the pattern.

"Yeah," said Elliot, taking Olivia's arm in his hand and demonstrating gently. "Just like this…like the picture."

And as both detectives looked once more at Moore's sketch, _Little Miss Laura_, they saw the similarities. Even more chilling was what Olivia noticed was lying on a table in the lower left-hand corner of the paper.

"Elliot…there's a scarf," she said, pointing.

Elliot peered into the corner of the sketch and noted the image of the scarf.

"Look at how he drew himself, though," said Elliot, lightly tracing the outline of the sketched rapist. "Tall…muscular…some tough-looking tattoo…this is his sicko fantasy."

"We don't know it's him, El," said Olivia. "That could be –"

"Artistic license? Yeah, it could, but I don't care. I want to find out how he knew so much about the crime."


End file.
